High Heels and Guns
by SockBrain
Summary: AU. MZ or MA (undecided). Working in a Detective firm to help locate her sibs, Max deals with familiars and Manticore.
1. Yes, Sir

A/N: Just an experiment, I'm not really sure where this is going, but I might be able to get something from it.  
  
It's AU, and I think I've changed some things (I don't really think it was Max with the gun in the pilot but Eva or someone). Max has just come to Seattle, 16 years old and none of her sibs have died. And there will be no stinking Logan (maybe as the bad guy or something though). Dunno.  
  
Tell me what you guys think of my little experiment.  
  
Prologue  
  
Max forced herself not to fiddle with her skirt and meet the interviewers gaze.  
  
He wants me to squirm, Max thought angrily. Suddenly, she did not want the job if it meant dealing with such a sadistic boss- she could find her siblings without this job.  
  
Just when Max had convinced herself to just stand up and walk out, taking her expensive dress suit with her, the interview said, "So, if I get this straight, you got kick out the military?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Reason?"  
  
Shocked by the authority and command of the interviewers tone, Max remained in her seat. "I threatened a superior officer with a gun."  
  
"So they dismissed you."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Max had a strange feeling of déjà vu while answering interviewers direct questions.  
  
"No high school education. Is that correct?"  
  
"Yes." Max had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from adding 'sir' onto the end of her sentence.  
  
"But the military educated you?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
There- it had come out! Max felt disgusted with herself, but she could not find the strength to simply walk out of there.  
  
"I have no further questions," the interviewer said, closing her file.  
  
Max stood as the interviewer stood. She did not expect to get the job- with those kinds of credentials he would not hire her for the chimney sweep.  
  
"Well, I might as well welcome you to the team," the interviewer said as they shook hands.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is English not your first language?" the interviewer asked, genuinely interested in Max's skills.  
  
"English's my first language- I was just shocked that I got the job," Max stuttered slightly.  
  
"Oh- I understand your shock. The firm's looking for a bitch like you to cope with some of our clients."  
  
Recovering, Max shook his hand more enthusiastically. "Thanks you. You won't regret this."  
  
On her way out, Max heard the phone ring and the interviewer pick-up. "White." 


	2. No Men's Toys

A/N: I deserve brownie points or something for this update. I nearly had kittens trying to think of where to go from prologue. But I did it. Finally. Hopefully now I've got the first chappie out of the way, the rest will just flow. Fingers crossed.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
He's kind of hot, I thought back on White and the interview, smiling slightly.  
  
"Here's your key, lady," the landlady said with a smoky accent.  
  
"Thanks," I said, accepting the keys and throwing the bag containing my few belongings over my shoulder.  
  
If only he'd smile more, I returned to my initial train of thought.  
  
Jinglingly the keys slightly as I walked to my flat door, I looked at the lock- rusted. Knowing the key wouldn't work, I tried it anyways.  
  
Oh, fuck it!  
  
Lifting my heeled foot, I brought it slamming down on the rusted over lock. The door flew open with a puff of dust.  
  
That felt good, I smiled happily till a puff of dust threatened to engulf me. Grimly, I entered the dust storm to do a quick once over.  
  
Well, at least there's a bed in the bedroom, I thought grimly, scrunching my face up at the smell of the decaying cat burrowed into the bed. And the bath tube included in the apartment?  
  
"Yeah, it's wedged into the bathroom door," I hissed angrily, kicking it. "This sucks!"  
  
****  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"First day on the job, we get you kitted up," White greeted me as I entered his office the next day, having spent a rough night battling dust bunnies. "Take the elevator to the basement, and someone will meet you."  
  
"Sir." Amazing how I fall back into that habit, I thought angrily as I turned on my heel.  
  
****  
  
"Don't use guns." I turned away from the offered weapon.  
  
"That a fact?" the African woman looked at me as if I were stupid. "White said I got a hot military girl heading my way, not no ditsy fifth floor blonde."  
  
"Am military," I explained coolly over my shoulder. "Just don't like guns."  
  
"In the wrong job then, sweetheart."  
  
Snorting, I turned to the woman. "Guns are men's toys when there's aren't big enough, and I certainly don't need no men's toys to make me safe and happy."  
  
"Now ya talking my language, girl."  
  
"What are you, queer?" I gave her a look, half-joking.  
  
"And if I am?"  
  
And boy did I get a look. Holding my hands up, showing this fiery African I meant no harm. "Hold up, Queen of Sheba, don't go jumping down my throat. I- "  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it. It'd taste disgusting, what with sick you spew out every time you open that big ole mouth of yours."  
  
Wow, I smiled. Girl's got attitude. Opening my mouth to introduce myself, the African woman turned away and walked off, leaving me standing with my mouth open.  
  
Making a face, I made my way back to White's office for the guided tour.  
  
****  
  
Obviously, my little argument with the Queen of Sheba had gotten around, cause everyone was giving me angry glares as I passed them. Someone even went as far as 'accidentally' dumping coffee down my white blouse.  
  
"Watch it, fool," I hissed, pushing a greasy haired moron against the wall.  
  
Plucking angrily at my white blouse, White snapped his fingers at the nearest person. "Get Ms. Guenava a new blouse, size extra-small."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Sorry about that. These idiot's couldn't walk along a straight line if it were ten feet wide," White apologized.  
  
"Don't sweat it, sir," I said, remembering that this was a prada shirt. It was not so much the make or the cost of the shirt that bothered me- it was that I was foolish enough to fall in fashion-hole rich people fell in.  
  
Blushing slightly at my vanity, I continued to follow White as the coffee began to cool and chill my skin, a small price to pay.  
  
****  
  
"So," I said to a man behind the desk wearing thick-framed glasses, probably the one person in the office building unaffected by the argument earlier. "Where's a good place to go at night?"  
  
"The sleazes around here tend to go to Crash, a junkyard for the idiots of this building."  
  
"Mm. And where is that?"  
  
"Sketchy!" the man shouted out.  
  
"Yeah Normal?" The idiot who spilt coffee down her blouse showed up.  
  
"Take Missy here to Crash."  
  
"Come on, Normal, I'm finished for the day!"  
  
Checking his watch, Normal shook his head. "Still on duty for another thirty-seconds. Bip bip, take missy to Crash."  
  
Making a face, he gestured for Max to follow him.  
  
"Don't think people like you'll quite fit in," Sketchy said mildly.  
  
"Honey, in this world no one fits in," I snapped back, growing irritated at the cold attitudes towards me.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sketchy asked suspiciously.  
  
Hesitating, I also wondered exactly what I meant too. "It means what it means, goofball," I replied lamely.  
  
Snorting, Sketchy continued walking in front of me, pretending not to notice me.  
  
****  
  
"Well, here we are," Sketchy said, abandoning me at the entrance and leaving for a table that the Queen of Sheba sat with a couple other friends.  
  
Might as well mingle.  
  
Asking for a drink, I turned and lent against the bar, elbows propped.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart," someone slurred in my ear.  
  
Not mingling with you, I thought as I turned away, cradling my drink.  
  
"Get lost."  
  
Relieved that the drunk had disappeared that easily, I eyed my neighbors, wanting desperately to fit in. Smiling nervously as the man beside me caught my eye, I silently accepted the beer he handed me.  
  
I watched as he opened his mouth to start talking, but I heard none of it. I simply smiled, my concentration focused on the Queen of Sheba leaving with the drunk and several friends in tow, my instincts screaming.  
  
Pushing away from the bar, leaving the man mid-syllable, I moved through the crowds to the exit.  
  
"Get your smooty hands off me, goon! Hey!"  
  
Seeing the sleaze ball and a group of his friends surrounding the Queen of Sheba, I slowed down and sauntered into the middle of things.  
  
"My, what fine gentlemen we got here."  
  
"Lesbo here got a hot friend," the man grinned. "Wanting some action too?"  
  
Feeling a hand on my rear, I smiled as the Queen of Sheba gave me a weird look, thinking I'm crazy.  
  
"Now, fellows," I said, reaching for the hand and twisting painfully. "See here, my friend and I don't appreciate the way you're treating us."  
  
Raising my elbow, it shot out and snapped a nose  
  
Facing the drunk from earlier, I smiled. "Good to see an old face- even one as ugly as yours." With that, my foot lashed out and swept his feet from under him.  
  
Looking over my shoulder at the Queen of Sheba, I whistled. "Man, Queen of Sheba definitely knows how to treat a guy."  
  
Glancing up, Queen of Sheba smiled before bashing her attackers face in for the final time.  
  
"Military too?" I asked, brushing my hands off as I came to stand next to her.  
  
"Military brat."  
  
Nodding, unsure what to say, I stuffed my hands in my pockets.  
  
"Pity you're straight, cause you make a fine female specimen." Don't I know it, I thought sarcastically. "How about we hit my crib and have a few drinks?"  
  
I shrugged. "Sure."  
  
Slinging an arm around my shoulder, she introduced herself as we began walking. "Original Cindy."  
  
"Max."  
  
A/N: Whadya think? I'm not comfortable with the change in scenes at the very beginning, so I'm curious to see what you think. Sorry it's so short, but I'm still not entirely sure where to take this. Chapter 2 is in the process already, so I'll at least get another update or two out of this before I die of plot frustration.  
  
And a big shout out to my reviewers!  
  
Ringo-gurl07- I glad it started off great, and I hope it continues so!  
  
Ice_Angl- Well, we got one vote for M/Z. Can we get another one? Fraid I don't even know what's going to happen. I'm so used to having my beloved Alec in it, that it's going to be a hard habit to break to get hunky Zack into the picture.  
  
Asta- I thought not being able to choose which juicy piece of ass I wanted was more due to my blonde hair, but I prefer your way of putting it ;) Paints me as an intellectual :D  
  
Lilmiss- now wouldn't that be telling? For now at least, he's the story hottie.  
  
Kathryn- Hope you continue to love this. Any preference of MA or MZ, or you happy with either?  
  
Athena80- sheesh, girl, cut back on your salts and fatty intakes! Girls' aren't meant to get heart attacks. And that's a vote for M/A then? Well, only time will tell.  
  
Jamie's Spawn- We should form a NO LOGAN sorority! I think it's already agreed I'll top-secret password will be NO LOGAN. Anyone else going to join? I hate to admit it, but I also think White's one of the hottest bag guys. 


	3. Damn files!

A/N: I did it- squeeze another update out of this experiment! I'm getting the plot moving a bit here in yet another short update. I'm worried that I'm just nattering on here, so tell me what you think.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Files. Damn files! Why are there so freaking many? There had to be more files than blondes in the world, and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad statistic.  
  
"Hey Max," the blonde popped her head in my office- yes, my office. This job might be worth the psychotic boss who hired me.  
  
"Hey Francesca," I groaned, deciding it was definitely a good statistic. Bring on the files! I cheered miserably to myself.  
  
"Just wanted to say you've got a call on line two."  
  
"Okay, thanks."  
  
Sighing in relief as the blonde's head disappeared, I snatched up my phone. "Max."  
  
"Guenava, we got your first case. I'm just sending Mr. Stickland through now."  
  
"Got it, White."  
  
Moments later, White walked in followed by my first client.  
  
"Mr. Stickland, this is Ms. Guenava, our newest recruit."  
  
"Pleasure," Stickland said as I reached across to shake his hand.  
  
"Mr. Stickland here has a very interesting story, and I'm hoping you'll be able to help him," White said, making his exit.  
  
Giving what I hoped to be a business-like smile, I gestured for Stickland to sit down. "So what's this story?"  
  
Stickland smiled nervously, while fidgeting with the penholder at the end of my desk.  
  
"Well, it's my little girl- she's been kidnapped." Quirking an eyebrow, I waited for him to continue. "The police insisted it was an insolvable case, but I know Karen's still out there."  
  
Sighing inwardly, knowing this first case was going to be a hard one. Unsolvable. Just great. I'll be fired after my first case- it'll be a record.  
  
"Alright," I said slowly, thinking where to begin. "Do you have any enemy's, Mr. Stickland?"  
  
"No."  
  
There had been absolutely no hesitation there, my brain ticked suspiciously away. Sliding forward on my seat, I leaned in. "Mr. Stickland, if there is to be any chance whatsoever of this firm locating your daughter, honesty is crucial."  
  
"Are you calling me a liar?" he accused, bringing his fist down onto the desk.  
  
I shrugged, brushing off his anger. "Your daughter, not mine."  
  
I met him eye-for-eye, watching the anger build up and suddenly drain away. "It could get you killed."  
  
"You're wasting my time, Stickland, and you're wasting yours if you come in here only to withhold vital information."  
  
I wanted him to leave. First case or not, this guy was only a greedy rich man that saw a price tag on everything.  
  
Seeing that he was still undecided, I sighed in frustration. "Mr. Stickland, either I can show you your daughter, or I can show you the door. Your choice," I shrugged again.  
  
Mr. Stickland glanced uncertainly up before replying. "I want my daughter."  
  
"Alright, now we're getting somewhere. Why don't you start by telling me when and where your daughter went missing?"  
  
Mr. Stickland nodded anxiously.  
  
****  
  
"Not kidding about those sixth floor blondes, were you?" I asked OC as I threw my bag on my new bed that night.  
  
"OC would never tell a lie."  
  
Turning to look at her, I felt uncertain. "Listen, if you're not comfortable with this arrangement- us sharing an apartment and everything- say. I don't like being where I'm not wanted."  
  
OC watched me squirm for a moment under her gaze before smiling. "If you weren't wanted, boo, you'd know it. And the only way for that to happen is if you leave the toilet seat up."  
  
I smiled weakly. "I don't think that'll be a problem."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
****  
  
"So this is where you saw her last?" I asked skeptically, as I avoided another stripper who glared at me, as if to say 'you're-on-my-turf'.  
  
"Yes," Mr. Stickland fidgeted.  
  
"Do I need to ask what you were doing here?"  
  
Looking around nervously, Mr. Stickland motioned for his driver to take a walk before turning to me. "I was doing a trade-off with someone."  
  
"And Karen?"  
  
"I left her in the car."  
  
"Alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
I gritted my teeth at that, not sure if I wanted to find Karen to give her into the hands of such an idiot. "Who were you meeting?"  
  
Biting his lip, debating whether to give such information. "A lady named Renfro," Stickland eventually replied.  
  
"Renfro?" I repeated, making a mental note of the name.  
  
Looking out the car window, I studied the type of crowds that hung here, and questioned myself whether it would be worth hunting down the normals here- especially considering they'd be too drunk to remember anything. Glancing up, I spied hover drones, and I knew my next move.  
  
"Well, I think I've seen all I need for now," I said eventually to the fidgeting man beside me.  
  
Nodding, he called in the driver.  
  
****  
  
'Tattoos' I typed in the firms' search engine. Receiving a whopping 12,345 matches, I narrowed the search down to 'barcode tattoos'.  
  
Nada.  
  
Hm . . . Was it possible the files had been edited? Or was there just simply that my sibling's are back at Manticore? Not liking the latter, I concentrated on the first idea.  
  
So, who would want to edit the files?  
  
Reaching a dead-end, I tried a new search- 'barcodes'.  
  
15,426!  
  
Load of-  
  
"Gueneva?"  
  
My heart jumped about a mile high at the sudden interruption. "Sir?"  
  
"Just checking up on how the Stickland case is going."  
  
Clicking a button on the keyboard, I brought up the hover drone footage, hiding my research. "Just looking at some footage," I said, and flipped the screen around for White to see it.  
  
Rubbing his chin, White glanced at the screen and looked at me, an annoyed look on his face. "Hover drone footage?"  
  
"Yes, sir," I wince inwardly, belatedly remembering it was illegal to be viewing this.  
  
"Are you using the 23.4 SP software?"  
  
"Yes, sir." I said.  
  
"Untraceable, good."  
  
I could only think to nod in response- White tended to have the effect on me, I've found. He made me feel like a blubbering idiot.  
  
"Good work," White said, before leaving, "Max."  
  
****  
  
A/N: Alright, big show down coming up- MZ or MA? Next chapter or two will be introducing our heartthrob! Reliable Zack? Or unreliable, but cute assed Alec?  
  
Anyways, I want to say a big thank you to my readers and especially my reviewers!  
  
Serei- Here's yer update! And I'm hoping I can you and everyone else happy with my love-interest in the end. But how bout I give you whichever one I don't use? ;)  
  
X5858- I'm hoping it won't get too crowded with everyone working in the same building, but I'm hoping it'll be a laugh.  
  
Anne- You go girl! I love Alec too. But Alec's a very busy and important guy, so he might not be able to fit it into his schedule to appear in this story- so I might have to cast someone as Max's love (Just never Logan!) You have to admit Zack's pretty hot!  
  
Jamie's Spawn: I oh, I would LOVE to have both Z and A in it. But how could *I* choose, let alone Max? I love them both so much for different reasons. Maybe I can merge them into one combo man! Reliable and unreliable at the same time. . . don't think that'll work. Humph.  
  
Freakage: Consider yourself part of the sorority! I need to teach you the secret handshake! Maybe I should create a No Logan sorority website, dedicated to Logan bashing and no Logan fanfics. That's a thought.  
  
Nat452- well, let's hope I can get 'more' out of this idea! 


	4. Stickass

Chapter 3  
  
"Getting on White's good side, are we boo?" OC said from the door jam, having heard the conversation between White and herself.  
  
"I don't think anyone can get on his good side- he's only nice when he wants something." Despite my harsh comment, I knew there was goofy smile on my face.  
  
Shaking her head, OC smiled knowingly. "Company policy, no inter-employee dating."  
  
"And you're telling this because?" I said, fighting to sound annoyed but knew I was failing utterly.  
  
"No reason," OC said with mock-innocence and shrugged.  
  
"Whatever. Let's do lunch."  
  
****  
  
Feeling close to bursting after lunch out, I clutched my stomach while sliding into my office chair. Taking a few minute breather, I turned to my computer to look at the downloaded hover drone footage when White appeared at my door. Unannounced and without knocking.  
  
"Gueneva- my office. Now."  
  
"Yes, s-"  
  
My office phone rang and I picked-up. "Max."  
  
"Hey Max- Francesca. Listen, White's on his way to see you."  
  
Gritting my teeth against an angry retort, I replied with a 'thanks' before hanging up. Looking up to apologize to White for the interruption, I found him gone.  
  
Can't be good.  
  
****  
  
"Can you explain this?"  
  
My eyes, glued to the blank wall behind White's desk, turned towards the folder that was slapped down onto the desk.  
  
Reaching for it with a steady hand, I opened it to find the history of my search engine.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"The barcode tattoo searches, Gueneva," White growled. "How did you know about the barcode?"  
  
"I don't know what you are talking about," I decided playing dumb would be best, as my eyes shifted to stare directly at the bare wall in front of me again.  
  
"I want you to tell me how, and where, you learned that Karen Stickland had a barcode on her neck!"  
  
Stunned, I could not respond. Karen? Transgenic? Was Stickland transgenic, sent from Manticore to retrieve me? My mind screamed.  
  
White sighed. "Sit down, Gueneva, this isn't an interrogation."  
  
I complied.  
  
"Mr. Stickland informed me under the strictest of confidents, that his daughter had a barcode of her neck and that she was- special."  
  
"A transgenic, sir?" I took a risk in mentioning transgenic in front of my boss, but I desperately needed to know what was going on, and if my cover was blown.  
  
"Yes, a transgenic," White replied slowly. "You realize that breaking into the basement files to research Stickland and his daughter can result in a dismissal?"  
  
Basement files? "It won't happen again, sir."  
  
"See that it doesn't," White dismissed me.  
  
****  
  
"What you wanting to do? Wallpaper the walls with these?" OC asked, returning from a night out from Crash.  
  
Glancing up from the files carpeting the floor, I saw a soaking OC. "I'll get a towel."  
  
"Thanks boo."  
  
Tossing OC the towel, praying the files would stay dry. "I just found out that the search engine at the firm isn't complete- there's still thousands of un-registered files in the basement."  
  
"White will skin your ass if he knew you'd taken all these," OC said, wringing her hair out as she took a closer look at a couple of the files. "Barcode tattoos? What you looking this up for?"  
  
Making a blind leap through the air, I grabbed the file from OC's hand and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Yuh- you might get them wet."  
  
"Ri-ight." OC gave me a strange look. "I'm just going to get some dry clothes on. You want some help with these? Or will I get them wet?"  
  
I glanced up from the barcode tattoo folder expecting to find a face framed with sarcasm and anger. Instead I found a friend looking down at me with understanding- she knew there was a secret in me and didn't care.  
  
Feeling a strange sensation in my throat, I was unable to speak for a few moments.  
  
"You can help."  
  
"That's my girl."  
  
****  
  
"Sketchy was worried about you, said you agreed to be at Crash tonight," OC said as she yawned and tossed a folder to the side.  
  
Biting my lip, I cringed. "I completely forgot."  
  
"So I said he could stop over later to check-up on you."  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"That a problem?"  
  
"I don't need anyone to check-up on me," I said gruffly, but could not stop a small smile from forming, inside feeling all tingly that Sketchy even cared I was a no-shower.  
  
OC raised an eyebrow because, as if by clockwork, there was knock on the door and Sketchy stumbled in.  
  
"Max, where were you?" Sketchy asked, slumping onto the couch.  
  
Opening my mouth to apologize, I heard Sketchy issue a snore- he had fallen asleep.  
  
"Puh-lease say I don't have to cope with the smell of this ass-wipe all night," OC complained as she picked up another folder.  
  
"I heard that," Sketchy said in his sleep.  
  
Rolling her eyes, OC ignored him.  
  
****  
  
"Matt," I startled him by addressing Stickland by his first name. "I know your daughter's transgenic. I know you and your wife adopted her. I know that you've been funding Manticore."  
  
I watched as Stickland jumped a mile high.  
  
"And I know about the abuse charges pressed against you." I added, wondering if I wanted to hand Karen back to an abusive father. "Now I need to know what was in that case you handed over."  
  
Stickland began to sweat. "Some important information."  
  
"What kind of information?" I growled. Twenty questions. I hate twenty questions!  
  
"Some very, uh, delicate information that C- Renfro has been trying to, er, buy."  
  
So there's a Mr. C in all this, then? I thought, sucking up on Stickland's irritating stuttering. Wondering how much further I could get out this stupid donkey, I continued to prod. "How long have Mr. C- I mean, Renfro been negotiating over this sensitive information?" I took a leap in guessing C was a man, but got the reaction I wanted- Stickland spilt his ice tea over my 'mistake'.  
  
"My god, you know!" Stickland cried. "He and Renfro want the information! One of them has her, and I don't know whom. What am I going to do?"  
  
It was like pulling teeth, I thought and considered how to continue. "It wasn't hard getting the information on them," I said, purposely being vague. "Now what I need from you is to tell me, is what these people would want with your daughter."  
  
Mr. Stickland, shoving the ice tea aside, went for his whiskey. Hands shaking, he splashed the amber liquid everywhere but the glass.  
  
Scare tactics were great for making people talk- but they could also create a deer in the headlights scenario. So I changed my angle of attack. "Why don't we just start with Mr. C's real name."  
  
Stickland responded without any prodding. "That man- you don't want to mess with him. He's got people in high places." Stickland demonstrated this fact my waving his whiskey glass above his head and spilling its contents. "He sent me my wife's heart in a box when I lied to him.  
  
"And now he's after my daughter!"  
  
Unsure if I could get anything out of this breaking man, I pressed for his name a final time.  
  
"Cale. Logan Cale."  
  
A/N: Well, I'm hoping that that will be the hardest chapter I have to write now that I've got this whole kidnapping thingy worked out- finally. And I'm apologizing here and now for bringing Lowman *cough*-excuse me- Logan into this. But I thought he'd have the biggest impact as a bad guy.  
  
A/N/N: Should I drop the bomb and tell you who out of three candidates I've chosen (White's gone into the candidacy now too)? Or should I just leave you hanging?  
  
I think I'll just leave you hanging and hope I'm not hanging myself in the process here. I'll just sweet-talk my reviewers into being nice to me then:  
  
Ashley: Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to wiggle them both into the plot. It'll all depend who looks more sexier wiggling (Wanna help me judge? It'll be fun)  
  
Chronos: Well, I think- well, hope- this story will be different from all the other ones. Just hang in there till the next chapter to find out!  
  
Mohico- lol. I love the accent (reminds me of home), but you're just going to have to wait till the next update for me to tell you what I'm going to put you through *grins evilly*  
  
Gamegirl- yeah, I think the sixth floor blondes will definitely have his name of them when Alec shows up. So you gonna be in line with them to see first hand that cheeky smile of his?  
  
X5989- Mysterious pairing? That has a kind of ring to it. So do your ideas. So it's a date then- the next chapter will be the grand revealing of the 'mysterious pairing'.  
  
JG- yeah, the fun they could have is going through my head are making me laugh. I think, no matter what I'm revealing in my next update, Alec and Max will have some fun arguing.  
  
Erin- I'll see what I can do to keep you happy:)  
  
Jamie's Spawn- god, the eye candy! Heaven, here I come! I just hoped it's not tarnished by involving Logan in all this, but the 'innocent bystander' approach does have its appeal. Oh, btw- combo man is MINE, but I'll be kind to leave you Logan :p (that's just a bribe to ensure you don't leak the final pairing until my update!)  
  
Astra- good to know the humor's there- thought it might be a bit dry without our wise-ass friend Alec. 


End file.
